


The Water's Fine

by KuriKoer



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Bathing, Canon What Canon, Comfort Food, Comforting, Crying, Eating, Feels, Food, Gen, M/M, Plot, Showers, civil conversation not civil war, five showers, five things, not civil war compatible, washing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-19
Updated: 2017-04-19
Packaged: 2018-10-20 18:58:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10668801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KuriKoer/pseuds/KuriKoer
Summary: The water's always hot in the tower. Five showers in as many months.





	The Water's Fine

The first shower Bucky took at Tony Stark's house was not as long as he'd have liked. It wasn't quite the military 3-minute-mark, but it wasn't that much longer. He just had to get the stench of two weeks on the road out of his armpits and off his feet, and the less said about the parts in the middle, the better. He was disgusting. And the second he got out of the room, towel around his neck, hair dripping dark streaks into it, Steve was already charging down the hallway back to him. Apparently there were plenty of showers in the building, but they weren't right next to each other, and Steve had his "rooms" where he had "unopened mail" waiting for him, both things said to him by Stark with an eyebrow waggle that meant they were code for something Bucky could only hope wasn't sexual. Not because he was judging anyone, but because really, Steve hadn't smelled any better than he had.

Then there was debriefing and then there was briefing and then there was a short downtime and the scarfing down of really amazing amounts of pretty good quality food, considering there was enough of it to feed him, Steve, and the guy with the cape who ate just as much as they did and drank twice the beer. At least he didn't look like he got squeezed in with the dirty washing, laughing delightedly at something Stark was saying, downing his drink, looking and smelling way too sparkly clean. Stark looked clean but he smelled of both soap and engine grease, which was oddly comforting, like leaning on a warm car hood on a cold day, an indistinct sense memory in the vast bank of them that Bucky could only label as Before, During, and After. He ignored most of the conversation and focused on eating.

The second shower Bucky took was in a much bigger stall, took just over an hour, and was approximately the temperature of a sauna. It also involved rinsing and repeating and rinsing and repeating until nothing but clear water flowed through his fingers, and then he stood around some more and let it pelt his shoulders, his back, his chest. When he finally stepped out his face was pink and his feet nearly red.

He smelled entirely like soap.

He used three towels, one for his hair, one around his waist, one over his shoulders. He felt like the richest man in the world.

Steve was waiting for him on his new bed, looking up and smiling softly when he walked in. Steve had clearly also washed again at some point, but he was a normal color and his hair was almost dry. Bucky thought about his long shower and endless hot water and returned the smile without difficulty.

"Are you going to sleep?" Steve asked softly.

Bucky raised an eyebrow. "Am I needed for anything?"

"No."

"Then yes."

He walked around Steve and flopped into bed still wearing the towels and nothing else. He didn't wait to see what Steve would do. He didn't fall asleep immediately though, so he felt Steve hesitate, then get up and leave. He wasn't gonna sleep in the same bed. Okay then.

Bucky woke up with his hair looking like hell, curled on the other side of the bed from three damp towels. He got up gingerly, hung the towels on a chair, and put on some pants. Trying to get his hair to calm down with hands alone didn't work. He'd have to face the shower again, if only to wet the tangled mess before he brushed it.

...Or he could wash his hair again and stand under hot water for over twenty minutes before stepping out and finding new fluffy dry towels waiting for him.

"Where've ya been?" Stark asked immediately when Bucky set foot in the common kitchen. "Steve's had his third breakfast at least, got his calisthenics in and everything, went to some boy scout meeting or whatever he's doing before lunch."

"Shower," Bucky replied somewhere in the middle, although he wasn't sure Stark heard him. "Any food left?" he added when he was sure he had Stark's attention.

Stark pointed to several plates lined on the counter, which Bucky discovered to his delight were only-slightly-damp, still-a-little-warm breakfast foods. He started picking on pancakes when Stark said, "Sit at the table, were you raised in a barn."

"More a storage hangar," Bucky said, carrying three plates to the table and sitting amiably across from Stark. "Want some?"

Stark eyed the fried meats with the look of someone who considered Tums his closest friends. "Thanks, I'm good." He raised a baggy of what looked like dried fruit. Bucky shrugged and returned to his plate. Stark kept staring at him.

Bucky kept tucking into the food until two of the three plates were empty and squeaky clean, and then he met Stark's gaze. "Yeah?"

"So joking about the horror and trauma, you're good with that? Not too soon?" Stark said. Bucky shrugged again. Stark eyed him for another 3.6 seconds before adding, "And my parents?"

Bucky felt his shoulder blades, so relaxed with all the hot water jets, stiffen again. "Nothing to joke about there," he said carefully.

Stark was quiet for another 4.1 seconds and then said, "Steve didn't tell me. I hacked the file."

"He was probably thinking to spare you the pain," Bucky said, measuring his words.

Stark was quiet. Bucky looked at the remaining food, and then attacked it resolutely. It didn't taste as good anymore, but he would finish the plate.

"Not the smartest, then, is he," Stark finally said.

"Heart in the right place," Bucky said through a mouthful, chewing, swallowing, taking another bite.

"Brain up his ass, though," Stark said.

Bucky snorted, then coughed painfully until a piece of scrambled egg shot out of his constricted throat.

"Sometimes," he allowed finally, voice hoarse.

Stark let him drain half a glass of orange juice before he continued. "He's the, you know, kinda leader of this rag tag team of masked heroes, or whatever."

Bucky nodded. He'd grasped that from being in the same room with them for ten minutes, even if he hadn't have read it before. "I followed him around myself for a few years, back when," he said, casual in a much too calculated way. "Was a pain in the ass."

"Preach," Stark said.

Bucky pushed the last bit of bacon into his mouth and said, still chewing, "Was worth it, though. In the end."

Stark nodded, thoughtful. Then he stretched his arm across the table between them and held his bag of fruit over Bucky's plate.

Bucky probed it delicately with two metal fingers and removed a few dried cranberries stuck together. "Thanks," he said, popping them into his mouth.

"Yeah," Stark said, rising to his feet. "See you later."

"See ya," Bucky said, leaning back in his chair.

 

~

The last shower Bucky took in the tower before all hell broke loose was nothing much to write home about. It took about fifteen minutes, divided near evenly between washing up and masturbating. He wasn't going to, but then he soaped his balls and a stray thought popped into his head about Tony and Steve training hand-to-hand, Tony in the body suit he wore under the armor, Steve in sweatpants that stretched over his ass when he rolled and threw Tony on the mattress and pinned him, laughing before Tony pinched him in the nipple --

"Ow!" Jumping back, Steve placed his hand over his chest, surprise and outrage on his face hilarious to Bucky, to Tony too judging from the breathless laughter, "You wouldn't do that to an enemy combatant!"

"I would too," Tony retorted, "and I wouldn't stop to laugh at them before I kicked them in the head."

\-- Anyway, an hour later in the shower Bucky thought of that again and his hand lingered more than it should have, and then it was a case of 'the erection is there, might as well do something with it' -

It was a good thing too, because it would be eight days before he'd see a shower again, let alone have any time to do anything with his dick that wasn't peeing on a literal tree in the literal woods, and that was something he was very comfortable never having to do again, thank you very much. Five months in the luxury of the Avengers Tower made it pretty easy to decide to never live rough again if he could at all help it. Except being an Avenger meant he couldn't always help it.

During those days he didn't think about a shower. He didn't think about his dick. He didn't think about anything except strategy, contingencies, and the violent deaths he would bring upon the heads of those responsible; and he didn't so much 'think' about those things as much as he clung to them desperately because it was better than being sick with worry, cold paralysis creeping into his bones like the old cryo and the thawing drugs, sluggish in his veins and feeling like thick, clogging poison burning him from the inside out -

They'd taken Steve, and Bucky hadn't been close enough but he could see it through the scope, see the blast hit Steve, wait a few tense, frozen seconds, see him stand up, turn his face to where Bucky was -- Bucky could see through the scope every nuance of the perplexed agony on Steve's face, the helplessness as he started marching, stiff like a mechanical toy, away from the others who were too far to get to him on time, away from Bucky, his head still turned, trying to maybe call for help but lacking control not just of his legs, taking him away, not just of his arms, laying down his weapons, his shield, but even of his mouth, his lungs --

Five days to track him. One day to devise a strategy, attack the compound, kill and maim and destroy, blind with rage and pain, until they reached Steve, but Steve was still stiff, unmoving, only his eyes wide and frightened like they had been when -- Bucky remembered every moment of Steve in the throes of asthma, when bravery wasn't enough to stand in the face of a body that didn't obey its master, didn't do the most basic thing a body can do, didn't breathe on its own - 

Two days between him and Natasha finding just the right people among their captives, and then interrogating them, carefully extracting information without causing anyone to bleed to death prematurely. One day of the cure, slow dripping into Steve's veins, and Bucky swore that if it didn't work, if it was a trap, he would visit all the horrors of the world upon the head of the scientist who told them where the anti-toxin was --

Steve was in medical now, breathing fine, talking back to Stark, thanking the nurses. Moving his arms and legs slowly, lethargically, but already standing on his own with a little help leaning on the bed rail, already eating with a spoon from a bowl, back propped against a mountain of pillows. He'll be good as new before the weekend, Banner had said. Bucky sat on the floor in the corner of the shower and let hot water wash over his face, long strands of wet hair like a heavy curtain in front of his eyes, fresh water washing salty tears away. He hugged his knees. Steve was going to be okay.

"Hey." Stark stood on the other side of the glass, looking down at him, speaking softly. "He's going to be okay, you know."

Bucky looked up, opened his mouth, swallowing water and tears and snot. "Don't you fuckin' knock?"

"Why, were you having quality time with the silver palm?" Stark slid to the floor on the other side of the glass, sitting with his knees folded, mirroring Bucky's position, except he was still in the body suit, having rushed to medical the second he was out of the armor.

Bucky took a steadying breath through his nose. He could smell only soap.

"You stink," he told Stark. "Go shower."

"In a minute," Stark said, making no move to leave.

Bucky reached up to turn off the stream of water, and then opened the glass door a crack. "Don't want to be alone?" he said very softly.

Stark shook his head, staring at the tops of his knees.

"He's gonna be okay," Bucky offered.

"Yeah, I know," Stark said, and a full body shudder went through him, and then another, and then he was crying, silent but for the shuffle of his shoulders against the tiles.

Bucky waited. Then he rolled to his knees and reached his hand through the open shower door, dripping on the rug. "Come on, I'm freezing my balls off here," he said gently. "Get inside, I'll wash your stupid beard for you."

Stark chuckled, sobbed, chuckled again. Started stripping the stretchy black fabric from his body, exposing bruises and old scars. "You just wanna get in my pants, old man," he managed to say through his tears.

"Not with the way you smell," Bucky said, "you're disgusting. Now come in here, the water's hot."


End file.
